


The Hand of the Father

by Magnetism_bind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Humiliation, Masturbation, Punishment, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tywin finds out about Jaime and his sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hand of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the You Win Or You Die kink meme on LJ.

As he waits Jaime feels like he's fifteen again, caught sneaking back into his father's hall after midnight. He shifts uneasily from one foot to another. He has no idea what his father's visit is about, but it bodes no good. What can possibly have brought the man to King's Landing so unexpectedly?

“Stop fidgeting.” Tywin strides into the room. He closes the door behind him, locking it.

Jaime stands absolutely still. _So it's to be that sort of visit_.

Tywin studies him. “It's true, isn't it?”

“What's true?” Jaime feigns casual interest. 

Tywin's eyes narrow. “You've been inside your sister.”

Jaime's mouth is dry, “Father,”

“Do not dare _think_ about lying to me.” Tywin's voice is like a snake, soft and deadly, and Jaime's eyes find it easier to stray toward the floor out of habit. 

_How does he know?_

“Look at me when I'm talking to you. You're a man now, not a boy. Face me like one.”

Stung, Jaime raises his eyes and flinches. The unrelenting fury in his father's eyes...he can't help it, he looks away.

Tywin sighs. “Since you can't comport yourself like a man, I will have to punish you like a boy. Bend over.”

“Father, is this really necessary? The rumors,” Jaime takes a deep breath. _The rumors are completely and utterly true, but really have you ever thought different?_

“Do you deny it?” Tywin replies. 

In the face of such a man, Jaime lies, “Of course.” The lie is easy on his tongue. He's always denied; he always will. 

“You fool.” Tywin sighs. “Bend over.” 

“My lord father.”

“ _BEND_.”

Jaime can only affect so much rebellion. He bends. Obstinately, but he bends. 

“I should haul your sister in here by her hair and make her watch.” Tywin stalks around him, loosening his belt. “Shall I?”

“No,” He doesn't want Cersei here to witness yet another humiliation at the hands of his father. She doesn't have to see this. 

“Then take it like a man.” Twyin strikes him across the back with his belt. “Hands on the floor.”

Bent over, Jaime's face is at least hidden from his father. The belt strikes again and he jumps. The next blow hits his legs and then his back. His father alters the pattern so he's never certain where the belt will strike next. The stinging pain only starts to fade as the next blow lands. His entire torso is on fire.

“You are a member of the Kingsguard.” There is enough warning in that tone, yet the exact words remain unspoken. Tywin has never forgiven his son for giving up his claim to Casterly Rock. 

“You are oath-sworn to take no women to bed.” 

_SMACK._

“I could care less if you bed a whore or two."

_SMACK._

"But you do not do it openly."

 _SMACK._

"And you _especially_ do not lie with the queen,”

_SMACK._

“...who happens to be your sister.”

Drops of blood pattern the back of Jaime's tunic. He's lightheaded, wondering how long he can stay on his feet.

“Straighten up.”

Jaime sways slightly, but finally straightens.

“Take down your breeches.” Tywin refastens his belt.

Jaime stares at him, but his father doesn't ask again. Slowly Jaime pushes them down to his thighs. 

“Those too.” Tywin points to his small-clothes. 

Jaime obeys. His cock bobs free, unfazed by the events. He stands there blankly, as his father stares at his manhood, scrutinizing it callously.

“It's not deformed. It appears perfectly adequate. Does it perform competently?”

“Yes,” Jaime grits out. 

“Take it in hand.” Tywin commands.

“Father.”

“Do it, or I'll do it for you.”

Jaime slides his fist over his cock, gripping it loosely. The last thing he wants is his father touching his cock in an effort to examine his shortcomings. He stifles a snicker at the thought, even if it's his own amusement.

“Well,” Tywin crosses his arms. “Begin.”

Slowly, Jaime strokes himself there in front of his father. There's nowhere to look. He tries to focus on only the act itself, but this is the least arousing situation he's ever been in. If Cersei were here...

“Shall I call her?” Tywin asks dangerously. 

“No.” Jaime tries to think of anything else, but all his thoughts turn toward her. The first time, in a summer field, the grass soft and warm under his back. The first time in his bed, Cersei stifling a laugh as she takes him in her mouth. The first time in an inn, Cersei dressed as a maid, pretending he's a lord. The first time in the bath, water sliding over their skin as she rode his cock. The first time after she was wed to Robert....Jaime's hand falters, then continues. There were so many first times, and he holds them all preciously. 

“What are you thinking of?” Tywin circles him. “Is it her?” The disgust is there, the anger. No disappointment. That goes without saying. Tywin Lannister doesn't let his disappointment show. It's simply evident.

“No.”

“What then?”

“Some girl.” Jaime lengthens his strokes.

“What color hair?” Tywin demands.

“Brown.” Lies. It's golden, like his own. 

“Where are you taking her?”

“In a tavern somewhere.” Jaime lies and lies and with each lie he sees Cersei all the more clearly. Her smile, sweet and haunting. Her teeth biting at his chest, as she holds him down.

“The hair at her cunt.”

“B...rown.” Jaime catches himself. 

“What does she look like?”

“Any girl. Tits. Ass. Cunt.” Jaime says carelessly, but oh so much more comes to mind. The scent of Cersei after she's come just for him. The feel of her shivering under his tongue. The way her limbs feel entwined with his. The smell of her hair, fresh, summer, gold. The taste of her mouth on his.

“Are you thinking of _her_?” Tywin's voice is menacing.

“No.” Jaime lies. He doesn't have to think of Cersei. She's simply there, in his brain. What little brain he has, she fills. All the heart he has, is for her, (save the portion for Tyrion). All he has is Cersei's. 

He spills at last over his own hand, not much but hopefully enough that his father will be satisfied. Jaime feels raw, stripped down to the bone. He wants to go to Cersei wherever she is, take her in his arms, hold her until she's as bloody with this as he is. 

Twyin presses his lips together. “I won't tell the king. But if I hear any more rumors...”

“What will you do?” Jaime's genuinely curious. His sister is the queen, he serves the king... exposing them would only damage the Lannister name and Tywin would never do that. 

Tywin stares at him. “What?”

Jaime just shakes his head. His seed is drying on his hand. He wants to laugh at all of it. Even the look on his father's face makes him want to laugh, as he still waits to be dismissed.

“You will not touch your sister in any unseemly manner. You will continue to serve in the Kingsguard. If I hear anything more than you behaving as a loyal knight serving his king, you will regret it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Jaime bends, but he doesn't break.


End file.
